at him with glazed eyes. A shiver went over every limb;
then the noble horse lay quite still, and Paul knew that it was dead.

Tears came to his eyes. It was as though he had been standing by the
death-bed of a human being. And, now that he was in the presence of
death, he scarcely knew how to act. Suddenly the sound of distant voices
roused him from the stupor into which he had fallen. For the moment, in
his grief at Falcon's death, he had forgotten that he was being
pursued--forgotten the message of which he was the bearer.

The sound of voices recalled him to his duty. If he remained there, his
pursuers would soon discover him, and wrest from him the letter with
which he had been entrusted. Falcon was dead. He could do no good by
remaining. To make good his escape, no time must be lost. By God's good
help, he might yet succeed in eluding his pursuers.

So he pulled himself together, resolved to go forward at all hazards.

"It is for Stan's father," he said to himself, as he tried to run. But
he soon found that another misfortune had befallen him. The injury to
his leg prevented him from running. It was only with an effort he could
walk at any speed, and at every step he took he felt that his pursuers
were gaining ground.

Redmead was close upon three miles away. How could he hope to reach it
without being overtaken by the men who were so keenly pursuing him?
Instinctively came to his memory the words he had so often heard in the
village church--"The wicked oppress me--compass me about. They now
compass me in my footsteps." And the cry of the Psalmist rose to his
lips:

"Hold up my goings in Thy paths, that my footsteps slip not. Show Thy
marvellous loving kindness, O Thou that savest by Thy right hand them
which put their trust in Thee. Hide me under the shadow of Thy wings
from the wicked that oppress me, from my deadly enemies, who compass me
about. Arise, O Lord, disappoint him, cast him down."

With renewed strength he pressed on; but he had not gone far before he
was compelled to slacken his pace. He realized that it was hopeless for
him to evade his pursuers unless he could find some hiding-place. He
looked around. There was no house near. But just a little ahead of him,
to the right of the road, were the ruins of an old house which had been
burned almost to the ground, and never been re-built.

As a drowning man clutches at a straw, Paul made his way to the ruins.
But he had not gone more than a few p